I Prefer Vampire Doctors Anyways
by searching.for.an.absolute
Summary: Esme and Carlisle story from the very beginning, from they first time they meet to Bella's day. The tale of a love that transcended time and defied enormous odds. Loaded with fluffy goodness!


**Hi :D **

**This is my first fanfic, so please read and review! I am writing from Paris, where they have some totally twisted keyboards :D, so some of my words/sentences may be messed up. **

**A/N: i thought that Edward should be a little less perfect-boyfriend type and more moody during the time that Esme and Carlisle fell for each other. After all, he was just dying to rebel against Carlisles rules. :D tell me what you think of it, REVIEW **

**also, i know that dr. feelgood didnt exist back in 1921. Artistic license, peoples :D**

**disclaimer: no, i dont own twilight. if i did, this would be official carlisle/esme fluff**

Stealing an Angel, a twilight fanfic

_1911, the suburbs of Columbus_

_The Platt House_

"Esme! Esme, come out here!" a young girl's voice came from Esme Platt's backyard, screeching her name. Esme shook her head and muttered, "For the love of god, Lily, please be quiet before my parents kick you out of the yard."

Esme rushed out to the backyard, where twelve-year-old orphan Lillian Harper stood by the big oak tree, jumping up and down. Esme, after looking round to check that her parents were nowhere in sight, lifted her skirts and ran to little Lily, who was far more entertaining than the stuffy suitors her parents found her any day. Lily, her braids framing a face that would be beautiful in a few years' time, pointed sheepishly to a branch high up in the tree when Esme reached her. Esme looked high up into the branches of the tree, and squinted until she caught sight of her friend's ballet slippers. While Lily may have been an orphan, her parents had certainly not abandoned her. They had left her enough money to live luxuriously for the rest of her life, and the girl had a passion for dance.

"That wretched Thomas threw them up there," Lily sniffled, probably horrified at the prospect of not being able to dance today. "Thomas told me to give him money to buy his lunch or he would take my ballet shoes."

"You tell Thomas that you'll buy him a pair of ballet slippers if he wants them that bad. He can join you at Madame Sophie's studio," Esme said to Lily, who smiled a little at the thought of chubby Thomas Lincoln in a ballet leotard.

Esme sighed, looking up at the shoes. Looking surreptitiously for her parents again, she said, "Lily, I'll climb up and get them. If you see my parents coming, keep them distracted."

Lily looked shocked at this for a moment. "Esme, isn't that…not very ladylike? I don't want you to get in trouble or ruin your dress for me."

Esme laughed. "Since when have I ever been much of a lady, Lily? Maybe climbing up a tree will prove to my parents I'm not very suitable for _any _of those awful men they bring home to meet me."

Lily smiled and murmured her thank-you, and Esme gathered her skirts to lift them. Tentatively, she grabbed hold of the bark and began to climb slowly up the ancient tree. Soon, she was amongst birds' nests and leaves as she made her 

way closer and closer to the streak of pink satin surrounded by green. She stood precariously still on a wobbling branch, hoping against hope that it wouldn't break—it was the only branch that her arm could reach the shoes from, and she clutched at the bark, in case it did fall. However, she had to reach out to snare the satin ribbon, and as she did, time fell still as she heard the awful snap of the dying branch as it made a clean break from the trunk of the tree. She fell towards the ground, desperately trying to make a graceful landing, but she was far too high up and her skirts got in her way. She tried to kick them away, but her leg got caught in the dress, bent at an awkward angle before her. Before she could untangle her leg, she heard the sickening crunch of breaking bone beneath her. And then the pain hit her—like a giant sledgehammer slamming into her, faster and faster, harder and harder. Lily ran towards her, sobbing. "Esme! Esme, are you alright, Esme? I'm so sorry," she cried. "I'm going to get your parents."

Esme nodded weakly. The pain made it impossible for her to speak, and she felt tears drip down her cheeks. She closed her eyes, hoping that if she could focus on something else she wouldn't curse enough to make even the most slovenly miser ashamed. Her parents would be appalled and shocked when they found her, and her cursing wouldn't make it better.

Soon after she closed her eyes, somebody's screaming awoke her. "Where is she? Is she alright? I've called the doctor, he should be on his way," Esme recognized her mother's high-pitched, panicked voice. She felt extremely guilty for making her parents worry. She heard, faintly, her father's deeper voice yelling at somebody to hurry. She felt her eyes drift closed again—it was less painful this way. She gripped the grass at her sides to stop from screeching.

"Oh, Esme, Esme!" Esme cracked open her eyes and saw her mother by her side, tears tracking down her pale skin. Esme tried to smile, but it may have come out a wince; her mother cried harder. "Where is the doctor?" she yelled, her panic contagious. Her father appeared beside her, frazzled and his face a bright beet red.

"Irresponsible, unladylike, thoughtless, reckless, Esme," he roared at her. She bore his hoarse yells with no retort because she knew he was out of his mind with worry.

She saw a blur in the corner of her eyes, something streaking towards them. She turned her head to catch it, and saw with astonishment that it was a human being running at that speed! She gasped, and caught a flash of blonde hair on the person before her mother forced her to turn her head. "Where does it hurt, darling?" her mother demanded.

Esme shook her head, struggling to catch another glimpse of who it was. Had she hurt her head, too? Was she going mad, or had there really been somebody running that fast? But before she could figure it out, the doctor had arrived. She didn't look up—did not want to bother—and didn't catch a glimpse of the doctor until he bent down to talk to her.

She was not prepared for the breathless feeling at his close proximity. At first, she couldn't make out his features, because no sunlight filtered through the thick layer of clouds today. But she caught his scent—something so sweet, so heady, so addicting she wanted to grab him and press her nose into him. But the next moment, she saw his features, and was pretty sure that he must be an angel. She had never seen somebody so beautiful, so perfect; his features were worthy, surely, of Michelangelo. So beautiful they made her dizzy, so beautiful they made her want to reach out and touch them, just to make sure they were real. Her heart beat a thousand miles a minutes in her chest, and she could feel a red flush creeping up her neck. Maybe now she finally understood her friends' ridiculous behaviour around the good-looking boys—but they didn't compare to this man, this _god…_

He _was _a god, she thought, his golden eyes glittering as if they were miniature suns of their own. His honey-blond hair somehow set off his eyes, and his inhumanly striking features turned themselves into a smile. She was sure that very moment that God was smiling down at her, too, because she knew that she'd never forget that smile. The sincerity, warmth, the _perfection, _she didn't know what to make of it, even.

Meanwhile, her parents and Lily had gone back to the house, as per the doctor's instructions to bring a makeshift stretcher. It was just Esme and the golden-haired god. All she could think to say was, "You must be God's reward for me not screeching out curses."

He laughed at this. "Do you think so? I wouldn't be sure."

His words puzzled her, but she didn't argue—she was still in pain, she realized. In her distraction, she'd forgotten all about the pain in awe of the doctor. She smiled at him, rather more shyly than she would have liked. If she got close to him again, and could stay there, she'd probably never be in pain ever again.

She could not do anything but stare intently at him. Her heartbeat had not ceased its irregular rhythm, and she was only becoming more flushed. She had never been quite this drawn to a man before, but something about this particular man said that he wasn't _just _a man; he was something above and beyond.

"How did you do this to yourself, Ms…"

"Call me Esme," she said, happy to talk to him while staring at him setting out tools. "And I tried to get my fr—my ballet slippers," she said, deciding to keep Lily out of it. She pointed vaguely up into the tree. He seemed to see them right away, and grinned at her. She fought off a dizzying reel of ridiculous thoughts, ranging from _I think I must have died and gone to heaven _to _I want to get married to _this _man! _

The rest of his treatment of what turned out to be her broken leg, she couldn't stop just blanking staring at him. Even Lily and her mother were entranced by the beautiful man, and could not help but to stare when they returned with her makeshift stretcher. She hid a smile at her father's jealous glare when her mother stumbled talking to the doctor as her father and the doctor carried her back to the house.

She was sure he must have seen them gaping at him, but took it with good humour and did not mention anything about it. His hands were cool and experienced as they reset her leg, but when his skin touched hers she'd have sworn there was an electric current running through her, setting her ablaze with something she'd never felt before. Her parents, trusting the doctor, took Lily aside to 'talk', leaving her, again, much alone with the doctor in the parlour on a sofa.

Much too soon, he was finished setting her leg. Even though she had only known him one afternoon, even though she was sure never to see him again, she felt certain that she had given a part of herself to him. A little piece of her heart—perhaps a big piece—was his now. She was shocked when he grinned at her, however, and handed her a pair of ballet slippers while her parents weren't in the room. "Thought you might like them back."

"Thank you…How did you—"

He shook his head, smiled, and held a finger to his lips. "You're welcome," he said, "It was nice meeting you. Don't climb any more trees. Or if you do, don't break any more bones."

She smiled. "I won't, I'll make sure. I'm sorry, I never caught your name."

He hesitated a moment, but it was just a moment. "Dr. Carlisle Cullen," he said, extending his hand. She'd never shaken anybody's hand before—they usually kissed her hand, and somehow she wished for the first time that he _would _kiss her hand. But she shook his hand, and could not stop herself from hanging just a second too long.

"Be careful with your leg for about three weeks," he said, warmly, although very professionally. "The local doctor's been away, but he will come to check on you when he comes back."

She could only nod dumbly as she stared into those golden eyes, so lost in them she couldn't bring herself to say anything. He gave her one last smile, and she didn't stop herself when she reached an arm out to touch the side of his face. She kissed his cheek, wanting desperately to turn her head just a little to touch his lips, but her parents were in the other room and he was probably a little freaked out by the sixteen-year-old harassing him, so she let go after a moment that was _way _too short. "I hope I get to see you again."

Dr. Carlisle Cullen seemed to contemplate something for a while. "Maybe you will," he said, although his voice was a little sad. "Maybe you will."

_1921, Ashland _

_The local hospital _

Esme Platt Evenson stared, motionless, at the small, lifeless bundle in the morgue. Hospitals had always reminded her of life and death, but never this acutely, never this painfully. Ten years had come and gone since the last time she had seen the doctor that made her want to go and visit a hospital just to check if he was there, and ten years had changed her life so drastically. She brushed back a few locks of her caramel hair; this made the tears flooding her eyes flow down her cheeks harder, faster. Would her baby boy have grown up to have her hair? Would he have had her mother's soft countenance, or her father's harsh but loving one? She avoided thinking about the precious baby having his father's traits; she knew it was cowardly, but could not help it.

He was gone, the baby boy that she'd clung to with all her hope and dreams. She'd let her salvation become that tiny, limp body, and now no life remained in it. No life remained in her child's body, and it felt as if all the life had been sucked from her, as well. Esme turned from the morgue, and blindly began to run from it. She had run away from Charles Evenson, the monster of a man, and she had run away from the parents who had come looking for her in Ashland. And now she was running away from her baby, running away from life. She was so, so tired of life, so tired of running away time and again. This, she decided with sudden clarity, would be her last time running away from something. In just a little while, it would all be over, this nightmare of a life she had lived. She did not particularly care for what came after this; come heaven or hell, she decided that either would be better than staying grounded on this earth with the constant reminder of losing her child.

In just a few minutes, her quick pace carried her to the edge of a breathtaking cliff. She did not see the faces or the places that she had passed; it was as if time itself had blurred and she did not hold the ability to see them anymore. She looked down the incline of the cliff. It was sharp, steep, and the waters below were violent and raging. The sky, as if it knew the sin she was about to indulge in, darkened with rage, dark grey storm clouds chasing each other about. Esme took one small, faltering step towards the edge, and then another. One after the other, her footsteps became steady as she neared the edge. She focused only on her footsteps, one after the other, one after the other…

And then, she was in freefall. She didn't even really notice her last step off the cliff, because it seemed like she was moving in slow motion. Her body was numb; she didn't feel the harsh, jagged rocks slicing across her skin or the whipping of the wind because her life was flashing before her eyes. She was six, happily baking with her mother. She was ten; playing in the field with her very best friends…she was twelve, her first crush behind her. She was fourteen, dancing with Lily at the ballet studio. She was sixteen, groaning in pain after falling off the big oak tree in her backyard. This memory was the most vivid, the clearest; every detail came to her as she continued to fall towards the water. Her parents' angry cries, the sickening crunch of breaking bone—and then a certain somebody's cold, marble-hard arms closing around her midsection, hauling her up to a stretcher. The moment Carlisle Cullen's face came into view was the moment she crashed into the water. She didn't feel pain; she felt her heart jump and then begin to thud at the memory of him.

It was funny how her memory 'film' stopped here; as if this was the place where her life had taken a turn for the worse. She, rather eerily, still remembered 

everything about him, even as her life was dying out. His perfect, melodic voice, the entrancing god-like features, the stature worthy of an Olympic athlete. Honey-toned hair and a smile playing at his lips. The beautiful tawny-gold eyes that had always shone with humour, intelligence, and something she'd never been able to name. This film reel was caught at one frame, forever leaving Carlisle's face in her memory. She wanted to remember more before she died; she wanted to see her baby boy once more—and she caught a flash of her baby's birth, but the scene returned to Carlisle's features. Her last thought, before her eyes closed for an eternal slumber, was that how she wished her childhood dreams of the handsome doctor had come true…

"Dr. Cullen?" a female voice awoke Carlisle from his reverie. He was thinking about how Edward had been especially restless tonight, his darkened gold eyes flashing anger and contempt when Carlisle had held him back, once again, from feeding off a human. Carlisle hoped that he would not rebel, but knew somewhere that he would sooner or later. A nurse stepped into his office and put a hand on his shoulder and came a lot closer to him than she needed. This was getting ridiculous, he thought, being around females on the job. Should he maybe invent some hideous disease for himself at his next hospital?

"Yes," Carlisle answered, and his tone rather sharp. He chided himself for being irritated because the nurse wouldn't know any better, of course. He said, nicer, "What is it?"

"A man just found a woman's dead body floating downstream. The body is badly mangled, and it looks like a suicide attempt." For all her childish ways of trying to get his attention, the nurse spoke with the tone of somebody experienced at seeing such sad occurrences. "They need you to pronounce her dead."

"Of course," he said, standing up. "In the morgue?" He looked straight in the eye then regretted it when he heard her heart double its speed in her chest. He wanted to sigh exasperatedly, but held back.

She seemed to reel for a moment before nodding rather jerkily. She gestured vaguely in that direction before leaving his office hurriedly. He sighed and shook his head, half amused and half irritated. He headed down to the morgue to do his job; he hated this part of it. To see all these humans in death, after such short lives. Especially those who had taken their own lives; he could not fathom the idea.

He saw the woman as soon as he entered the darkened room. He was alone with this woman who had ended her own time on earth; he walked to her at human speed, and gazed down at her.

Instantly, he was left reeling by the recognition of the woman. But he didn't see the cold, mangled body on the metal table; he saw instead a bright, happy, beautiful young girl of sixteen chatting with him while he reset her broken leg. He saw, in his mind's eye—the memories of his kind remained forever strong—her laughing smile and her teasing remarks. Esme Anne Platt? Impossible. Surely Esme wouldn't have taken her own life…

Carlisle stared down at the body, contemplating…and then he heard it. It was faint, but it was sure. The sound of a heartbeat. The sound of life. Its steady rhythm, interrupted at times by a small stutter, shocked him; it meant that she was alive. Carlisle did something he had never done before to a body; he examined the woman's face, brushing back her brown-gold curls, a shade he had never forgotten since that fateful day ten years ago—and saw the faint smile on her lips. Had she died smiling? What had she been thinking of? He was sure that he felt his dead heart jump at the possibility of her thinking of him.

When he'd seen her face, Carlisle had had no doubt that this was the very same Esme that had turned a three-hundred year-old vampire into a blubbering mess of a twenty-three year old half-man, half-boy. And then, almost reverently, he knew he couldn't let her die. Wouldn't let her. If he took her life back now, he would be being selfish beyond belief, beyond imagining; surely he was ruining all his years of abstaining from blood just by this simple move? He was stealing an angel away from her deserved place awaiting her in heaven. He was defying nature, he was committing every sin ever _invented, _but all he could see was her beautiful features. All he could see was Esme, laughing again, beside him for eternity. Just imagining the prospect made him reeling from a combination of emotions he had never felt before for a woman. He knew that he must have fallen in love with her that first moment when he had met her, ten years ago, even if she had been seven years—well, two hundred and eighty-something years—younger than him. Instead of complaining of the pain, she'd said, "You must be my reward for not screaming in agony." She'd smiled, and he'd been entranced by a human.

He couldn't bear the thought of letting her die. Her heartbeat was slowing; it would have to be soon. And then, almost as if it was natural, fate, vocation—he delicately punctured the skin at her neck, and let his venom take its destined course. Her heartbeat became stronger and stronger, and she began to squirm in 

pain; Carlisle picked her up and ran at inhuman speed, too fast for human eyes too catch him.

He brought her to the home he and Edward shared; he knew that she was his world now. She started to scream in pain as soon as Edward came crashing down the stairs.

Edward gave Carlisle a malevolent glare. "You changed another?" Edward demanded, his eyes darkening as he read Carlisle's thoughts. He was becoming more and more adept at his gift, Carlisle thought ruefully. In a century, nobody would be able to hide anything from Edward.

"I…" Carlisle's words trailed as Esme screamed again. "Make it stop! Make it _stop!" _she grasped at his arms, her eyes closed tightly in pain, beautiful features contorted. "Whoever you are, make it stop! Is this hell? Is this truly where I belong?"

Carlisle, for the first time since he'd created Edward, ignored his son as he set the writhing woman down on a sofa. "It's alright," he said soothingly. "This isn't hell. It'll be over soon."

He heard Edward's angry snarl from behind him. "Soon? Three days, Carlisle, she'll be like that. And then she'll be even worse. This may as well be hell."

"I couldn't let her die," Carlisle retorted angrily. "They all thought she was dead, but her heart was beating."

"Dying would have been better for her than _this," _Edward spat, gesturing at himself. "I can't believe this," Edward muttered, one hand raking angrily through his bronze hair. "You changed a human because you _love _her?" he demanded incredulously, as he delved deeper and deeper into Carlisle's thoughts.

"You'll understand, eventually," Carlisle said very calmly, although even he didn't really understand. Is that what this odd combination of joy, reverence, and lust was? He'd known so surely just a few minutes ago he was in love with this woman…

"Right," Edward muttered derisively. "I'm going hunting. I'll be back in time to help you out with the newborn so she doesn't kill you looking for blood." With 

that, his moody son sped out into the darkening daylight, and Carlisle didn't bother to stop him. Instead, he turned his attention back to the woman in his arms.

Esme didn't know where she was. All that she knew was that she was burning. She was burning in something so hot it scorched at her everywhere…she begged to die, but then she'd remember she was already dead… Somebody was burning her body from the inside out, and it hurt more than anything she'd ever felt. She writhed in agony, screamed for help, clawed at herself to try to make the pain stop—anything, anything to make it stop. Somebody was at her side, always, whispering that everything would be okay, that it would be over soon. His voice kept her grounded, kept her half-sane, and she clutched at his hand. Something about his voice was so familiar, and she ached to see what he looked like; but she couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. She kept them squeezed shut, in case if she opened them she would find herself in the burning pits of hell.

The somebody held her hand constantly, at times moving to press a cool hand to her forehead or her cheek. His hands were freezing cold and comforting, and she found herself wanting to be closer. She, despite all the pain, managed to push herself up and into his arms. He wound his cold arms around her and held her while she shook in pain. And while she might be in more pain than she had ever thought possible, she was at the same time in heaven, being held in this stranger's oddly familiar arms.

And then, after an amount of time that seemed like eternity to her, he whispered in her ear, "It's almost over. Really over," he promised, cold hand rubbing at her back. And, to his credit, the burning inside of her began to cool, to subside. After maybe a few more hours, it stopped.

Esme took a deep, shuddering breath. It was gone. It was really gone. Surely, then, she hadn't gone to hell? Gathering up the courage to open her eyes, to see her saviour, the man who'd stayed here with her the whole time, listened to her scream in anguish and held her, she slowly opened her eyes.

And she saw…an angel. Not only an angel, but _her _angel. Carlisle. He was the very same, his honey-blonde hair, his perfect, beautiful features, though his gold eyes seemed darker than they had been before. He was breathtaking, and he was _here. _She gasped. "Dr. Cullen?" she whispered, not daring to believe her eyes. She'd died and gone to heaven. She was sure of it, if Carlisle was here with her.

He smiled at her, and she waited for her heart to jump. Strangely, she didn't feel her heart, but she felt butterflies in her stomach. "I think you can call me Carlisle now."

"Carlisle?" she said, allowing the feeling of elated joy take over her body. She didn't even remember the pain now; all she could think about was the man before her. Dr. Cullen. Carlisle. Her _dream _was her saviour? Surely it was all too good to be true. She threw herself at him, winding her arms around his neck, just in case he was going to disappear into thin air. Suddenly, everything was perfect, being here with Carlisle. She'd never forgotten this man, not even after so many years. She breathed in his sweet, light, perfect scent—stronger, somehow, than it had been before. It seemed as if she could smell better or something. "Oh, my…" she murmured. "It is you."

"Yes," he said, his wry tone clear.

She pulled away from him, and felt a grin take over her features. She waited to feel the pounding of her heart, but didn't—how strange. The butterflies were still there, though, as she leaned in and kissed him. The moment her lips met his, she lost all control of herself. She crushed her lips to his, and he responded gently, kissing her back. She knew now this _must _be heaven. The very _taste _drove her crazy_…_

He pulled away before she got enough of it. She waited to blush like crazy, but couldn't feel that, either. She mumbled, "Am I being unladylike in front of you again? I apologize," she murmured. Then she smiled. "But I've been waiting since I was sixteen to do that, so, if you don't mind, I'd like to make up for lost time. You don't seem to mind."

He chuckled at this. "I'm glad you remember me so clearly."

"Who could forget you?" she asked brazenly.

He laughed again. This time, he set her down on She took the vampire thing rather well, he thought. Most people the ground, with the same grace she remembered. Though she would much prefer to remain in his arms, she knew that she felt different. Lighter, somehow, more graceful than she had ever been. "Before we get to that, as much I would like to make up lost time too, there are some things I need to explain…"

She took this vampire life well, better than most people. Most would have told him he was insane. But, then, Esme had never really been most people. God, he wanted to get this over and done with. That kiss had thrown him off-guard, but that didn't mean he wasn't dying for more, no pun intended. Halfway through his explanation of what Esme was now, Edward came sauntering in, sarcastically waving hello to the 'newborn.'

"And who's this?" Esme had asked him, new red eyes wide. And then she caught the smell of human blood from the open door. "Edward!" Carlisle had snarled, grabbing Esme by the waist as she started to run at inhuman speed towards the human man who was passing by their door.

"Oh, oops, sorry," Edward said callously, shutting the door, then helping Carlisle restrain Esme, whose newborn strength was much greater than three-hundred-year-old Carlisle's.

After she calmed down, Esme looked horrified. She said, dryly, "Guess you weren't lying, huh?" And then she averted her gaze. "I couldn't control myself..." she said, slowly, "The _smell, _it burns so bad…oh, dear…" she shook her head in shame. Carlisle, already unable to see her suffer, pulled her close. Then she brightened. "This means you're going to have to spend a whole lot of time distracting me," she said, eyes twinkling.

Instantly, Carlisle's mind was bombarded with their kiss, and other mental images that were a lot more explicit. Edward groaned loudly. "Oh, spare me, will you?" he said, head in his hands. "I don't need to see the two of you…" Edward rolled his eyes. "Keep it to yourself. Please. I beg of you."

The boy was really a teenager, Carlisle thought amusedly. "Yeah, I'm a real normal teenager, alright," Edward muttered.

Esme looked round quizzically. "How did you know…we…" her gaze darted around in embarrassment, her first ordeal with the temptation of human blood forgotten in the embarrassment of his teenage son knowing they'd just had a makeout session.

"Oh, yeah. Here's the thing about vampires; we're not all that normal," Edward said sardonically.

Carlisle opened his mouth to say something about being polite, but Esme beat him to it. "You watch your tone with me, young man. Vampire or not, you didn't speak to your mother like that, did you?" she shot up, and jabbed an indignant finger in Edward's chest.

Edward, who had been sarcastic a moment ago, looked down at the tiny woman chastising him and said, "No, I didn't speak to her like that." He almost looked sorry as he winced when Esme jabbed her finger in his chest again, probably with too much of the force of a newborn vampire. Carlisle stifled a laugh. If she jabbed a hole through him, he'd never let Edward forget it.

"Then you won't speak to me that way, you heard me? What I do with your father is our business and our business alone. Now, I don't know how you knew, but either you read minds or you were standing outside like some peeping Tom, and I'd pick the latter."

Edward burst into laughter at this one, but nodded sheepishly. "You think I _want _to know what you do with Carlisle? No, thanks. And just so you know, I'm not peeping Tom, whoever he may be. I do read minds, and I'm warning you now to be aware of the lack of privacy. It's really worse for me than it is for you, believe me." Edward smiled at her in amusement. "Come to think of it, you do remind me of my mother."

Esme, at hearing these words, realizing she'd just disciplined his son, who she'd never met before, backed down, embarrassedly. She seemed to steel herself before looking at him again. "Um," she said. "I didn't really have a right to do that—I'm sorry—I didn't catch your name?"

Edward sighed exasperatedly. "Name's Edward. Welcome to the…um. It's not much ofa family, I'll give you that."

Carlisle laughed, and came up behind her and wrapped and arm around her. "Maybe he'll listen to you more than he listens to his father."

At his words, she turned to stare at him. "Is he really your son? I thought you look a little young to have a son his age…"

Carlisle grinned at her. "I didn't say I'd finished the story, did I?" Regardless of Edward's presence, he kissed her again and didn't even falter to smile at Edward's dark mumbles about _you'd think blood would be more tempting to her than men who're two-hundred-and-ninety-years old. _

Esme listened in awe to Carlisle's story, about how she was a vampire now, about how she would be forever twenty-six, about how he was more than two hundred years old, about so many things that she'd never been able to imagine, and as fantastical and unbelievable as it seemed, she knew that she would never be able to doubt Carlisle. She knew that he wouldn't ever lie to her, either, when he kissed her right in front of his teenage supposedly mind-reading son and her new, graceful legs felt like they'd give out from under her. When he pulled away, however, the sudden burning thirst that had struck her the moment she had caught the scent of something so tempting, so delicious, that she hadn't been able to control herself, returned.

One moment she was sitting beside Carlisle, and the next she was running at an inhuman speed towards the human man, her only thought about drinking his blood. She'd barely registered Carlisle's arms restraining her and Edward snarling at her to get back.

Well. At least now she had proof that Carlisle was telling her the truth about all this crazy vampire stuff.

Thinking about this more clearly, she said, "That day you first met me. I saw a blur in the corner of my eye, a blonde-haired man running so fast I couldn't be sure he wasn't just a figment of my imagination—that was you, wasn't it?"

"Guilty as charged," he said, with a small smile. "You're a fast learner."

"I can't believe the _burn_ when you smell them," she whispered in horror. "I didn't even have time to restrain myself," she said, averting her gaze. She and Carlisle were the same kind now. How could he ignore them so, be so indifferent to the tantalizing smell; she'd _never _even tasted it, but it smelled better than anything that she could think of…but would she have just taken his life? Just killed the human man, ended his life, without any regard for who he was, what he was, his family and friends? Was she a monster now? Carlisle seemed to be able to ignore it, she knew that much—how did he do it?

"It will get better, but not by much," he said. "Like I said before, I don't drink human blood, and neither does Edward. I don't wish to force you into my lifestyle, but I hope that you will join us." Carlisle nodded towards the door, where the human man had stood just a few minutes ago. "I don't believe it's morally right for us to simply take human lives with no compassion; after all, we were once human too. It's a big debate between me and the Volturi, believe me." Carlisle shook his head. He had just told her about the supposed 'rulers' of the vampire world, the millennia-old vampires that inhibited Italy.

Esme heard from somewhere upstairs a dark mutter with new, sharper ears. "Yeah, join us. Deer has gotta be good for you." Edward and his particularly musical voice.

"Edward," Carlisle muttered under his breath, flashing an uncertain smile at her.

Esme thought about what he had said, about taking human lives and compassion. She knew somewhere that the guilt she would have felt if she had really killed that human man would have been more agonising than anything she'd ever imagined. She couldn't even bring herself to think about it—the image of her, red eyes glinting in the light, bent over a dead body…the thought made her sick. She wouldn't ever, she promised herself. Would _never _let the temptation grasp her strong enough that she would lunge at the nearest human being to take their life.

"Will you…help me? You know, restrain…myself?" Esme asked Carlisle quietly, knowing it was a big favour that she asked of. From what he had told her, she was a newborn vampire, and her strength surpassed that of both Carlisle and Edward right now. If she desperately, blindly wanted blood, she might hurt even Carlisle or his son in her bloodlust. She didn't know what she would do if she hurt Carlisle because she couldn't control herself—how would she be able to face herself, if she hurt the man who had saved her so many times?

The man with whom she was now desperately in love with? She would be in love him for the rest of her endless life, probably, whether he returned the sentiment or not.

He looked at her strangely. "You think that I would abandon you by yourself, as a newborn?"

"I'm a…threat…to your safety," she forced the words out. "And Edward's, of course. If you, you know…don't want me to be here, I'll—"

Before Carlisle could say anything, Edward loped down the stairs at human pace, his expression one of exaggerated mirth. "You're kidding, right? As if Dr. Feelgood here could bring himself to drag himself away from you. He hasn't told you why he changed you yet, has he?"

Esme was quite annoyed by the boy's moody antics, but held back from saying so. "If you're annoyed, then tell me," he said, reminding her when it was too late of his ability.

She sighed. The boy needed disciplining, in her opinion. Had his mother never told him it was rude to speak to a lady that way? "I believe I told you once before that what happens between your father and I stays that way."

"Edward," Carlisle said warningly. "Privacy."

"Will you relax and stop trying so hard to get her to stay? She's made up her mind that she's going to be, and I quote," he put his hands up in air quotes, "in love with you for eternity."

Thoroughly embarrassed by this, she turned her gaze away from Carlisle. She hadn't exactly planned on telling Carlisle this…man, she going to get the brat for that later, she thought, half-humorously and half-murderously.

"Hey!" he said, probably rifling through her thoughts again. "I'm speeding the process of your love confessions up. Then we can all go hunting like one big happy family," he muttered.

"Edward," Carlisle seemed to have lost his saint-like patience. He growled. Esme was frightened to think about the effect this happened to have on her; Carlisle had just…well, acted somewhat threateningly and...she forced herself to think it. She happened to find it…sexy? Extremely so?

Gulp. She so _should not _have thought that….she glanced in mortification at Edward.

Edward, after a rather disturbed expression had come over his face, burst into hysteria. Carlisle, annoyed, probably sent some not-very-nice thoughts his way. Edward, holding his stomach, ignoring Carlisle and laughing, gasped, "She finds it…" pause for laughter… "She finds it…hahaha…when you…ha…snarl…" he shook his head, composing himself. "Man, I'm leaving. I don't want to be here 

when she tells you exactly what she thinks of your…_growling." _Edward sped off in a blur, faster than even the average vampire, and disappeared before she could catch the smell of human blood again.

_Present day, Forks, Washington_

_The Cullen House _

"…And Edward said to me, his voice so incredulous that I probably should have taped it for him to hear now, _you changed a human because you _love _her?" _Carlisle told his family, grinning at the opportunity to torture Edward. Carlisle shook his head dramatically. "Edward, I told you you'd understand someday. I'm glad Bella helped me prove it."

"And they all say you're some sort of saint," Edward muttered, catching Carlisle's thought about torturing him.

Alice and Jasper laughed at him, and Emmett clapped him on the back, whispering "Dude, I'm so never letting you forget that." Emmett winked at Bella, who in turn grinned at Carlisle. Bella nudged Edward, whose lap she was sitting in. Edward ignored the rest of the family and buried his face in her neck, groaning.

Carlisle said, "I told him that he'd understand. He asked me the question like there was something seriously wrong with loving a human."

"Well, you didn't really love a human. I was half-vampire by then," Esme said, laying her head on his shoulder. "You know my first thought was? I thought, wow, this must be heaven because my angel's here." She smiled at him, and he was lost in her golden eyes, so much like his, for a while. Only when the kids started to gag did he look away, and even then he managed to give her a quick kiss before turning back to them.

Bella was smiling sheepishly at them, although her face was flushed bright red. Edward, probably having seen some disturbing mental images in his and Esme's minds, was busy trying to distract Bella so he'd be distracted. Alice and Jasper were off in their own world, probably more entranced by each other than he and Esme had just been. Rosalie and Emmett, having lost interest in this 

conversation a while ago, had disappeared, and Carlisle dragged his mind away from them before he could hear the moans coming from their bedroom. Then maybe he could tell himself it was just Emmett losing to Rose at some meaningless human board game.

He turned to Esme with a grin. "What were you saying about me being your angel? I'd really like to hear some of that, you know." He picked her up in his arms and ran as fast as he could to a small, secluded cottage that none of the kids knew existed. Here, he and Esme were alone, without Edward's disgusted mumbling or Alice's constant "Stop it, you're scarring me!".

She rolled her eyes before smacking him in the head and jumping out of his arms. "Get over yourself, Cullen." But before she sped off to finish her renovation project on the cottage, she sneaked him full-on open-mouthed kiss. She practically had to pry his head away from hers before smirking at him smugly. "You'll never hear me call you an angel again." She smiled. "I much prefer vampire docs to angels any day, anyways."

FIN.


End file.
